


Finding You Again

by Emachinescat



Series: Next Generation [1]
Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Mystery, Spoilers: Casefile #1 - Dead on Target, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-21
Updated: 2009-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen years after Joe Hardy's death, his daughter, Joline, finds reason to believe that her father may not be dead and embarks with her cousin Darren to find her father again in Washington, D.C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ted Dekker's "Saint." Don't own, this is just for entertainment purposes only. Also don't own any of the song quotes at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

" _Your life dreams are shattered, and you've gone away. We've cried here for hours, and the hours turned to days. We know you regret this, leaving us here, with portraits and memories that we've held so dear. When I hear your name, it's not the same. No matter what they say, I'm not okay."_

" ** _Zero" by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Smile, it's the End of the World_**

* * *

_His hair is as black as coal, his eyes filled with a hatred so intense she knows that the devil himself is looking straight into her soul. He fingers that button, a wicked grin curling over his rotten teeth. "No!" she hears a young man scream. "Don't, please, take me instead!" She tries to protest as well, but the words stick in her throat. She lets out a silent scream as her twenty-one-year-old husband mouths, 'I love you' from behind the tempered glass of the black van. The man pushes the button, and she rushes forward, her brother-in-law beside her. They are too late...The van, with her husband trapped inside of it, is torn to shreds in a giant ball of flame...she hears sirens...the terrorist, the Assassin, slips away...the police...they're too late, too late...Joe Hardy is dead._

Thirty-five-year-old Vanessa Hardy woke with a start, tears streaming down her face. She had relived this nightmare thousands of times since her husband's death fifteen years ago, and it never got any easier. She could clearly remember that day, when her husband had been killed in a fiery explosion by an insane terrorist, an Assassin, Al-Rohan, the brother of Al-Rossussa, the man who had killed Joe's first love, Iola, in a very similar bomb blast. Al-Rohan blamed Joe for his brother's death. He had kidnapped him, and a week later, Joe's brother, Frank, who was closer to him than anyone, managed to track him down. When they found him locked in a van in front of Bayport Mall-the same place Iola had died-they arrived just in time to see the Assassin blow up the van-Joe trapped inside of it. The terrorist was never captured.

Joe and Vanessa had only been married for two months when the tragedy happened. Two weeks later, Vanessa had learned that she was little over a month pregnant. That knowledge was the only thing that kept her from giving up in the agonizing months to come. As difficult as it was to fathom, she knew that Joe's untimely death had taken an even greater toll on Frank.

She cried into her pillow, like she had done so many times before. "Joe, why did you have to go?" For tonight, she was twenty again. She was watching her husband die before her very eyes.

* * *

"Jo! Jo, c'mon, baby, get up. Time for school!" Vanessa tried without success to rouse the grumbling lump under the covers. The sandy-haired fifteen-year-old mumbled incoherently and rolled over. Vanessa sighed. "C'mon, Jo. I'm not playing."

Joline Iola Hardy peeped open her vibrant, deep blue eyes-the same as her father, she had been told many times-and muttered, "Whattimeisit?"

"Time for school," Vanessa answered. She frowned. "Why didn't your alarm go off?"

"It did," Joline yawned, sitting up and brushing her shoulder-length hair from her eyes. "But I pushed snooze. Five times."

Vanessa rolled her eyes and sat down on the corner of the bed. "You're just like your dad was," she said, laughing.

Joline looked up in interest, something she always did when her late father was mentioned. "Dad was like this?"

"Just ask your uncle," Vanessa smiled, wiping a tear from her eye. She paused, and gave her daughter a quick pat on the leg. "Get dressed. You'll be late."

* * *

"She mentioned Dad again this morning," Joline informed her cousin, Darren Michael, as she climbed into the passenger's seat of the seventeen-year-old's lime green Eclipse. Darren picked Joline up for school every day, because they both attended Bayport High-Joline a Sophomore and Darren a Senior. Darren's mom, her Aunt Callie, or his dad, Uncle Frank, would take their other two children-Joseph Samuel, who was twelve; and little Jessi Marie, who was only four (or four-and-a-half, as she always insisted)-to school. Darren had been two when her father had died, but he couldn't tell her anything about him, except what his dad had told him, which was a lot of great things, but not many details of how he died. Still, Joline loved to talk to her cousin about her father. And he loved to listen.

Darren and Joline were best friends. He was more like an older brother to her than a cousin. It had been this way as long as Joline could remember. He was very protective of her, and they spent all the time they could together. His dad has often commented that their bond was very similar to that he and his own brother-Joline's dad-had shared.

Darren glanced over at her, interested. "She did? What'd she say?"

Joline grinned sheepishly. "Basically that I'm as lazy and stubborn as he was."

Darren laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. He rolled down the window and let the crisp morning air ruffle his short black hair. "That's you, alright, JoJo," he agreed, using his "pet-name" for her. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" Joline asked instantly. She could read Darren better than anyone else.

"Nothing important...it's just Dad," he admitted. "He's been pretty cool about this whole college thing." He grinned for a moment. "I forgot to tell you-I got an acceptance letter from this great college. Mom and Dad couldn't be happier. Then Dad found out that it's a police academy-I'm wanting to major in forensics, or some such field of study that involves crime fighting. And Dad's not happy about that at all."

Joline frowned. "Uncle Frank has always been very supportive. Why not now?"

"See, that's the mystery here, isn't it, JoJo?" Darren grinned. "I think it's got something to do with your dad's death."

Joline wrinkled her nose. "Nah, it can't be. Mom said that Dad died in a car accident."

Darren shrugged. "Just a hunch," he stated as he pulled into a parking space in front of the school and hurried inside. "But, hey, JoJo, don't worry yourself about it, a'ight?" Darren said, giving his "little sister" an affectionate squeeze. "Dad'll come around. He always does." He paused, a sly grin appearing on his handsome face. " _Especially_  when Mom gets to work on him."

Joline shrieked in mock horror. "Oh, the mental images...ewwwww!"

"Get to class, you pervert," Darren laughed as he walked toward his locker.


	2. I Still Miss You

_"If dreams came true, just one more chance to talk to you, and thank you for the time you spent teaching me the truth. A boy back then, I've grown up, now I'm a man. I can finally understand the things you said to me…but I still miss you, all the time we spent together, to hear you talk about the weather…"  
 **"I Still Miss You" by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Hawk Nelson is My Friend**_

* * *

Thirty-seven-year-old Frank Hardy glared at the college acceptance letter in his hand. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his wife, Callie, smiling sadly up at him. "Hey, Baby. Whatcha thinking?"

Frank shook his head, his dark brown locks becoming agitated. He was starting to get a little gray-Callie said it looked dignified, but Frank knew that if his baby brother was still alive, he would be making fun to his heart's content. "I just want them to be safe, Callie."

"Honey, you're a private investigator, just like your dad was before he retired. You had to know that one of our kids might want to be like their dad as well?"

"Why couldn't he want to be a soccer player like Joey? Or even a 'vederinarian' like Jessi Marie?"

Callie sighed. "Frank, you know Joe wouldn't want you to be like this...feel this way." Tears misted her eyes. "I miss him, too, but, Frank, it's been fifteen years."

Frank shook his head. "Callie, I don't want the same thing to happen to Darren as it did to Joe."

Callie slipped an arm around his waist and ran a finger down his cheek. Kissing him lightly on the lips, she cooed, "Let's just  _talk_ about it before you give him the no-go, okay, Babe? He's just like you were when you were his age," she added, smiling sweetly and kissing him again.

Frank sighed. "Callie, I-"

"I won't take no for an answer, Darling," Callie said softly. "You should know that by now."

Frank's face reddened. "Okay, okay, you win," he mumbled.

"Good," Callie grinned, stepping back and sauntering up the stairs to get ready for work. "Oh, yeah, don't forget. Thanksgiving dinner at your parent's house on Thursday."

"Right," Frank agreed, smiling fondly at his wife. Then he hurried out the door. He had a client to meet.

* * *

Joline slammed her locker shut and hurried out to the school parking lot to meet Darren. He was leaning against the side of his Eclipse, grinning at her. "Took you long enough," he joked.

"Funny," she countered, then added, "Oh, I'm eating at your place tonight."

"Invite yourself, why don't you?"

Joline rolled her eyes. "Mom has to work late tonight, and I'm tired of ordering in pizza."

"I didn't know you'd been ordering in pizza," Darren commented. "I could have gotten you some for free. Tony, the owner of Mr. Pizza, is a great friend of Dad's."

Joline shrugged. "I'm tired of pizza anyway. So can I eat dinner with you?"

Darren nodded. "You know you're always welcome. I just like messing with you."

By this time, they had pulled into the driveway of a large, white, two-story house. A large marble sign at the front of the driveway said in beautifully engraved letters:

_In Memory of Joseph Samuel Hardy_

_Top Notch Detective_

_Loved Son_

_Caring Husband_

_The Best Brother in the Whole World_

_Died November 30, 1993 in the Line of Duty_

_We Love You So Much, Baby Brother_

Her uncle had put this up just weeks after his brother's death. This sign had always bothered Joline. Her father had obviously been a wonderful person-loved and admired by his parents, wife, and brother. But what kind of father would he have been? Would he have taken her to that Daddy-Daughter dance she had to miss in kindergarten because she didn't have a daddy? Would he have taught her new and wonderful things about the world? Would he have taken her fishing, or gotten her into sports? Would he have been in the first row next to her mother at her eighth grade graduation?

She had no idea, for although her mother had been a widow for over a decade, she had never remarried or shown any interest in a long-term commitment with any man.

"You coming?" Darren asked, stepping out of the car and jolting her back into the present.

"Oh...yeah," Joline responded and followed her cousin into the house.

The first thing she saw was a picture of her father-the last one he had taken before he died. She studied his handsome face and bright, deep blue eyes. He had an arm around her mother, and the look on his face was one of pure happiness. Darren nudged her forward, and she hurried from the entrance into the freshly mopped living room.

Jessi Marie met them at the door, her brown eyes shining. The little girl's blonde hair was pulled into pigtails. "Hi, Darren! Hi, Jo!" she squealed, then threw her arms around her brother, then her cousin.

"Hey, Jess," Darren greeted his sister as he threw his book bag on the floor. "Where's Dad?"

Callie walked into the room. "Up in his study. Get that bag off my floor. Put it up in your room. Now." Darren rolled his eyes but headed upstairs with the bag, Jessi Marie on his heels. Callie turned to Joline. "Hey, Jo. What's up?"

"Okay if I eat here tonight?" Joline asked. "Sorry it's kinda short notice, but Mom called and said she won't be back until later."

"Sure. You know you're always welcome here."

* * *

The dinner table in the Hardy house was packed that night. Frank and Callie sat in their usual seats. Jessi Marie sat in between Joline and Darren and couldn't be happier. Joey had invited his friend Ronnie over, as well, so that was another seat filled.

"How was your day, Darren?" Callie asked her son.

"Great," the teen said, keeping his eyes locked onto his father. "Mr. Buchanan was telling me that crime scene investigation and forensics is my calling."

"What's for-in-sick?" Jessi Marie wanted to know.

"It's where they cut up dead guys and take their guts out," Brown-haired, green-eyed Joey grinned. His best friend Ronnie snickered.

"Ewwwww!" the little girl shrieked.

"That's enough, Joey," Frank warned, but he was smiling. To Darren, "Darren, I-"

"Look, Dad, I know how you feel about this, but it's my life, my decision."

Frank sighed. "I just don't want the same thing to happen to you that happened to-" he stopped, then crammed a large bite of potatoes into his mouth, trying not to say anything to dig his hole deeper.

"What happened to who?" Darren demanded, staring his father down with intense blue eyes.

"Darren..."

The tense moment was broken by Vanessa walking into the kitchen. "Hey, Babe," she addressed Joline. "Ready to go home?"

Joline glanced at the distraught, worried face of her uncle, and Darren's annoyed but compassionate gaze, and nodded glumly. "Yeah."

* * *

Frank paced the living room, tears streaming down his face. When Joe had first disappeared in that blast, he had convinced himself that Joe was really alive, and had searched fervently for any evidence that the dead Joe was a clone or a double, but as each long month passed, with no word from the police, or even the Network, he was forced to accept the bitter truth—Joe was dead.

Sometimes, when he least expected it, a wave of grief and remorse swept over him. This was often accompanied by the strange, fleeting notion that his brother was still out there, somewhere. Alive.

No, it had been fifteen years. Frank knew better than to give into these feelings. "Oh, Baby Brother," he sighed. "Why couldn't it have been me?"

A sleepy voice sounded from the doorway. "Daddy? Why are you crying?"

Frank turned to see Jessi Marie in the doorway, one of his own T-shirts serving as a nightgown that reached her ankles. Her hair was mussed and her eyes were drooping. Frank glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight.

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep." The child frowned. "You didn't answer my question, Daddy."

Frank sighed and scooped his little girl into his arms and held her close. "I really miss him, Jess."

"Who? Uncle Joe?" Jessi Marie asked, and then went on when Frank nodded. "You shouldn't be sad, Daddy," the four-year-old said softly. "I bet Uncle Joe would want you to be happy.

"You're right, Baby," Frank smiled, and felt his heart melt as she reached out with a chubby hand and wiped away his tears. He spun her around and she giggled in delight. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered, her brown eyes big and serious. Frank smiled and put her down. As his little girl scampered off to bed, he breathed, "I love you too, Jessi."


	3. Everything That You Ever Wanted

_"…I fell to pieces. Then I woke up to no one, just a picture of Jesus in a house left in pieces…"_

_**"Everything That You Ever Wanted" by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Hawk Nelson is my Friend** _

* * *

The next day was Friday. After school, Joline went to her aunt and uncle's house again. Vanessa was working late again, and she had asked her brother-in-law if Joline could camp out in the guest room like she had so many times before. In fact, Frank and Callie's "guest room" had been converted into "Joline's second bedroom".

Joline spent most of her free time at her uncle's house. He was the closest thing she'd ever had to a father, and Callie was like a second mom, filling in when Vanessa had to work overtime. Joline knew that her mom felt like she wasn't spending enough time with her daughter, but Joline knew that being a single parent wasn't easy.

After riding home with Darren, she walked inside the house and deposited her overnight duffel in her "bedroom". "Dad's got a friend coming over for dinner tonight," Jessi Marie informed her as she stepped into the living room.

"Who?" Joline wanted to know as she picked up her adorable cousin and hugged her.

The child giggled, then answered, "Uncle Chet!"

* * *

Chester Morton was still clumsy, still pudgy, and still funny. And he was still the best friend Frank had ever had—besides Joe. An energetic idealist who ran a toy company, Chet had finally found a way to turn his creativity into something productive.

He sat at the kitchen table, plate full of loads of anything and everything on the table. The others had finished eating fifteen minutes ago, and while Frank and Callie sat at the table and kept Chet company while he devoured his third helpings, Joline and Darren plopped down on the couch and started flipping through channels.

Jessi Marie was already asleep—her bedtime was seven-thirty—and Joey was at soccer practice. "Hey, check this out," Darren nudged Joline, who was nodding off thanks to the great turkey dinner Callie had prepared.

"Huh? Who dat?" she muttered, shaking her head and grinning. "Are you sure Aunt Callie didn't put any sleeping pills in that turkey? Because I'm exhausted."  _Or maybe it's from losing sleep from all those dreams about my dad._ Joline didn't know why, but she hadn't been sleeping well lately, always waking up after dreams about her father. He seemed to be on her mind at all times lately; he had almost become an obsession and Joline wasn't sure why.

Darren just chuckled and pointed to the television screen. "Senator Walker's campaign is starting off pretty well."

"Oh, yeah." Joline wasn't very interested in politics, but Darren was. She tried to look lively as he spouted on about the candidate for president.

"See, something happened about…I dunno, I think eighteen or so years ago. An assassination attempt—right here in Bayport. The details are a little fuzzy, but apparently the murder was stopped by some locals. I've asked Dad about it, since he was a kid when it happened, but all he's told me is that it was a bomb and that the whole story wasn't released to the public.

"But anyway, after that, Walker stepped back and laid low just in case someone else was after him. He continued to work in the government, until finally, Grandpa convinced him to run for president again."

Suddenly interested, Joline stared at her cousin. "Grandpa Fenton? Since when is he involved with the most powerful people in the country?"

Darren raised his eyebrows. "Did you forget he worked in the police force and then was a private detective? He was world famous, JoJo. He hasn't confirmed it, but I'm pretty sure that he was one of the people involved in stopping the assassination." He lowered his voice. "And I think Dad and Uncle Joe were, too."

Joline snorted. "Okay, you're reaching, Mr. Detective," she chuckled. "Your dad would've told you if he'd been involved, right?"

"I don't know, Dad's been kinda weird lately—" Darren suddenly broke off, his eyes glued to the screen.

"What? Darren, what's up?"

Silently, Darren pointed at the screen. Joline raised her blue eyes and froze, her heart racing in her chest. It was like looking in a mirror, right back into her own blue eyes. She shook her head, but the image stayed the same.

It couldn't be. But it was.

The man glared at the screen, then spun on his heel and marched away from the press conference, scowling.

It was her father.


	4. I Gotta Find You

_"Every time I think I'm closer to the heart what it means to be who I am. I think I finally found a better place to start. No one ever seems to understand. I need to try to get to where you are. Could it be, you're not that far?"_

**_I Gotta Find You by Joe Jonas (Disney Records) from Camp Rock Soundtrack_ **

* * *

**THREE DAYS EARLIER**

**SECRET BASE IN THE JUNGLES OF ROMANIA**

Concentrate. Breathe. Concentrate. Aim. Concentrate. Don't forget to breathe. Concentrate. Keep still. Concentrate. Aim.

Fire!

Eric smiled grimly as the bullet of the handgun hit home, right smack in the middle of the bull's-eye. Of course, he should have known he wouldn't miss. He never did.

Eric knew everything about a lot of things and nothing about others. He knew his name was Eric. He didn't know if he had a last name. He knew he lived in the jungle with his superiors. He didn't know if he had ever lived anywhere else, or if he had a family somewhere. He didn't know how long he'd been here. Maybe ten days. Maybe ten years. Maybe forever.

And he knew how to kill. If there was anything he knew better than anything in the world, it was killing. Of course, he hadn't actually killed anyone yet. That came after he completed his final test. But he knew how to kill.

He was the world's greatest assassin, and he hadn't even taken a life yet.

He could imbed a bullet in a person's chest, into the center of the heart from a mile away. He'd done it plenty of times, to some of their moving simulations. He could fashion a weapon from almost anything at hand. He could detach himself from reality, warding off pain and fear and distractions. He was unstoppable.

He couldn't wait until his first assignment. Then all those who doubted him before would know that he was, indeed, the best killer in the world.

Then they would pay.

* * *

**PRESENT**

**BAYPORT**

"No way!" Joline breathed, her heart in her throat. "Was that really…?" She didn't finish her question because she knew by Darren's stunned expression that she really had just seen her father.

"This isn't…like an old rerun or anything?" Joline asked tentatively.

Darren shook his head. "It's Live from D.C. And besides, if you looked at his face, you could see that he looks older than in any of the pictures that Dad has."

"Not much!" Joline protested. "He looks like he could be twenty-five! But how…?"

"Maybe it's just a look alike?" Darren suggested. "You know, someone who looks uncannily like your father but isn't? I mean, he's been dead for…"

"Fifteen years, I know. But…Darren, you saw him. You saw his face, his eyes. He even had that birthmark on the side of his neck." She gestured to a picture of her father. He had a tiny discoloration on the side of his neck, almost invisible. But Joline had spotted it.

Suddenly, Joline sat upright and whispered excitedly, "Wait 'till your Dad finds out!" She started to rise and go get her uncle, who was still waiting for Chet to finish his munching, but Darren grabbed her arm. "Jo, he's gone. Dad's not going to believe that we saw someone who has been dead for fifteen years. He's going to think that we're crazy, we're playing some sort of cruel joke, or we saw some double. Unless he shows up on the TV again, we're the only ones who know the truth…whatever that is."

Joline's face fell, but she nodded. "I guess I can't tell Mom, either, huh?"

"That's probably not the best idea."

"So what now?" Joline's eyes were alive with a spark of purpose and adventure.

"What do you mean?" Darren asked slowly, although he had a pretty good idea of what his younger cousin was thinking.

"We're not just going to sit around here while my dad is alive in D.C.! I have to know the truth! I have to find my dad!"

Darren sighed. "And how do you suggest we go about this?"

Joline thought for a minute, then grinned and pulled out her cell phone. "I'll tell Mom and your parents that I'm going to go over to Stacey's house for the weekend. You tell your Mom and Dad that one of your friends asked you stay a few days at his house. We'll call our friends and let them know we're going to D.C., and tell them to cover for us. Then we drive to D.C., find my dad, then get back before Tuesday—long weekend, remember? We don't have school on Monday."

Darren stared. "Jo, you're out of your mind!"

Joline crossed her arms and looked very hurt. "What's wrong with my plan?"

Darren smiled grimly. "If you can find a way to remedy all the malfunctions in this plan, I'll go along without another word." It was clear by his expression that he thought this impossible.

"Fine. Malfunction away."

"Number One: What happens when one of our parents calls our friend's house and asks to talk to us? Two: What makes you think our friends will stick to the story when asked a point blank question? Three: It's an eight-hour drive to D.C. I've got a restricted license. I can't drive past eleven, and even if I could, I wouldn't. It's too dangerous. And four: If our parents ever find out the truth, we'll never be ungrounded. Oh, and there's always the slim possibility that your dad isn't alive and that was just some freak misunderstanding or something."

Joline glared at her cousin, fire in her eyes. "Darren, my dad is out there! Alive! Maybe I'm wrong. So what? I'm willing to take that chance to find out the truth. Imagine if you'd never known your dad! You'd go out of your way to find out what happened to him, wouldn't you? If he was still alive? If he wanted to come home?"

Darren saw the pleading look in Joline's eyes and knew that he couldn't refuse. But—"Your plan is still very flawed."

"And I suppose you have another, O Wise Elder?"

"Actually, I do." Darren disappeared into the kitchen and came back half an hour later holding several hundred dollars and a big smile plastered on his face. As Joline stared disbelievingly, he grinned, "Pack your bags, Jo. We're headed to D.C.!"


	5. Words We Speak

_"We're better than the words you speak. So much more than incomplete. Figure out what life means out on our own. Words you say can't bring us down. We've all failed and hit the ground. Now it's time for us to just take control."_

**_Words We Speak by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Hawk Nelson Is my Friend_ **

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_BAYPORT_ **

_Where am I? Joe Hardy thought as he struggled to open his eyes. His head throbbed painfully and he couldn't remember anything after something had crashed down on his skull after leaving for his morning run._

_He was surprised to see that wherever he was, he wasn't tied up. He sat up and slowly stretched, glancing around. I'm in MY van! He realized. He tried the doors. Locked. The locks had been tampered with. They wouldn't budge. The black tinted windows were bulletproof, as was every other glass surface in the vehicle. He couldn't break them._

_He looked out the window and felt sick to his stomach. He knew where he was. In the parking area of the Bayport Mall. He could see black scorch marks on the pavement below. He was in the spot where his first true love, Iola Morton, had been blown to bits by a terrorist bomb._

_Whoever had kidnapped him was playing a sick game, bringing him here._

_He heard his cell phone ring. That was odd._

* * *

**PRESENT**

"I still can't believe you, Darren!" Joline exclaimed. "How on earth did you get us plane tickets to D.C.?"

"I told you, Dad was happy to get us a flight to Washington, dear cousin," Darren said, grinning. "All I did was tell him that we're really interested in the Walker campaign. I told him that we wanted to see the action up close. Now, not only do we get to go to D.C., but we get to stay with Walker himself. Dad was able to arrange it since Grandpa and Walker were such good friends. Since Walker is an official candidate, we'll have the Secret Service on our side, too." He chuckled. "At first Dad was reluctant, but after I told him I'm thinking about dropping crime scene investigation and might go into something nice and safe like politics…"

Joline grinned, then stared out the window of the private plane. "It's a good thing Walker is such good friends with Grandpa. I guess if you save the potential president's life, you can call in any favors…private jets, room in the candidate's home, Secret Service waiting to pick you up at the airport…But we can't let all this go to our heads," she said firmly. "We know Dad was at the press conference. That means maybe he'll hang around while Walker's in D.C. So whenever we get the chance, we've got to do some serious sleuthing. And we've got to find him before we fly home on Monday."

Darren nodded. "We're in this together," he said.

Just what they were getting into together, they had no idea.

* * *

**TWO DAYS EARLIER**

**SECRET BASE IN THE JUNGLES OF ROMANIA**

Eric stood before Atol, who was gazing at him with cruel scrutiny. "I can see that you will not be set back easily. You have made it to your last test. Only if you survive, will you be given your first assignment." He paused. "Let's review, shall we? You have, at the base of your skull, an implant. If you should decide you do not want to go through with this test, a button will be pushed, and the implant will send thousands of electric currents throughout your brain. You will be dead within seconds. If you fail but manage to survive, the same will happen. Are we understood?"

Eric glared at his superior stonily. "When would I ever betray the Assassins? I know nothing but this place, and it is my life."

"It is a precaution we take with all of our members, correct? Now, you have done exceptionally in blocking out pain, heat, cold, emotions, and distractions. I am told that you can condition your body to endure even the most deadly conditions, right?"

Eric bowed his head in modesty. "I can, Sir."

"Very well. The final test will see just how conditioned you are. Only the most elite have survived this challenge and gone on to become so superior in the Assassins."

"What must I do? I am ready."

A crooked, unreadable smile flickered on Atol's face. He beckoned Eric to follow him. They shuffled down a long flight of stairs into a damp basement. In the middle of the floor was a metal chair with cuffs on the armrests. A strange machine was attached to it, with a helmet protruding wires. Eric stared at it, emotionless.

"You must survive the Electric Chair."


	6. Like a Racecar

_"Broken words said to me. Broken mirrors make it hard to see. Does anyone feel the same? I need some help, I need some change. Broken dreams, and broken hearts. You broke my trust right from the start. How am I supposed to feel when nothing's ever real?"_

**_Like a Racecar by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Letters to the President_ **

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_BAYPORT_ **

_"Joe, where the heck are you?" Frank Hardy demanded in his brother's ear. "Vanessa's been worried sick about you."_

_Joe's head was still a little fuzzy as he tried to remember what had happened. Thinking about his wife being upset made him feel guilty, but he honestly had no idea how he'd gotten here or why his captor had let him keep his cell phone._

_"I'm at the mall, Frank…" He hesitated._

_"The mall? What are you doing at the mall? Come home, okay?"_

_"I can't, Frank. I, uh, got knocked out, and when I woke up, I was locked in the van. Everything's been tampered with, and I can't get out; there's no way to hotwire it. For some reason, whoever jumped me didn't take my cell phone. Obviously, he's not playing with a full keyboard…"_

_"…Which makes him more dangerous," Frank finished. "Have you seen any sign of your abductor?"_

_"No…but it could still be a trap. Maybe he meant for you to call, and then come down here. Frank, why don't you just call the cops…and maybe a locksmith. And tell them to bring me a sandwich, I'm starved…"_

_"Fine, I'll call the police, but I'm heading down there, too. Vanessa will want to come, too. Don't worry, Joe, I'll keep her safe. Where in the parking lot are you?"_

_Joe hesitated. "I'm, uh, in the same space where Iola was when she died."_

_Frank fell silent. "The Assassins are probably involved in this, Joe. We need to get you out of there, now. You call the cops, I'm going out there. Now."_

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"You know, I'm a little nervous about meeting Walker," Joline admitted as she stepped off the plane, glancing around for the two Secret Service men that were going to escort them to Walker's house.

"Don't be," Darren advised. "Grandpa likes him. That should be good enough…Look, there they are!" They hurried over to two men dressed in black suits, wearing dark glasses. They looked the teens up and down, then referred to two pictures they held.

"Joline Iola Hardy and Darren Michael Hardy?" They nodded. "Please come with us."

They got into the limo, wide-eyed. "Man, we get to travel in style!" Darren commented. The doors locked.

"Must be a safety procedure," Joline said nervously as she tried to locks and they wouldn't budge. "To keep anyone from getting in."

"Wait a minute," Darren said after a few minutes. "We're going the wrong way! According to the map Dad gave us, we're headed in the entirely wrong direction."

"Oh, how silly of me," the driver said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Or should I say, how silly of you. Didn't you know there was a change of plans?"

"What do you mean?" Darren asked.

"What do you think I mean, genius? The Secret Service men got a call from Walker this morning, telling them not to show at airport. It seems that Darren and Joline have changed their plans and are coming with us instead."

Joline's heart caught in her throat. "Let us out of here right now!" she ordered.

"Certainly," the gray-haired driver agreed. "As soon as we get to our headquarters, you'll be free to leave the car."

* * *

**TWO DAYS EARLIER**

**SECRET BASE IN THE JUNGLES OF ROMANIA**

Eric was strapped to the Electric Chair. Any moment now, electric currents were going to surge through his body. Enough to kill a man twenty times his size. He was ready.

He closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, a wall was being constructed around his body, shielding it. What was heat? Nothing but a figment of his mind. It didn't exist. What was pain? Something he could block out. It didn't really exist. He knew this. Because of this, he could experience the worst kind of torture and not feel a thing. What were fear, and hate, and hurt, and love? Nothing but weakness. He felt no emotion. Because he knew that weakness would lead to death, he was not weak. He was unstoppable.

He was the greatest killer in the world. He could survive anything.

He thought of a light at the end of his dark haven—this was it. No more practicing. In a few hours time, he would be on his way to complete his first mission. He would kill whoever needed to be destroyed, escape leaving no evidence, and be welcomed back as the greatest killer in history.

It was because of all these things that when the currents sizzled through his body, he hardly felt them.

Pain was relative. And so was life.

He knew this, and so he would live.


	7. I Am One of Them

_"I get in the car, another tragic disaster. But I'm safe where I am, yet another is captured. The traffic has stopped, the people just stare. Another alert, does the kid have a prayer? Life is not fair."_

**_I Am One of Them by Aly & A.J. (Hollywood Records) from Into the Rush_ **

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_BAYPORT_ **

Joe Hardy was bored to tears when his brother's car squealed into the parking lot and he got out with Joe's wife, Vanessa. They saw the black van and headed to it. "The cops are on the way," Joe mouthed, and Frank nodded. Suddenly, someone stepped out of the shadows of the parking garage. For a moment, Joe froze, anger welling up inside of him. Al-Rousasa, the terrorist who had killed Iola…

_But then he remembered that Al-Rousasa was dead. Maybe it was a double from the Lazarus Clinic. But no, they had been shut down for years. The Network had made sure of that. Besides, this man's face was leaner, and he had something besides maniacal desperation in his black eyes: the thirst for revenge._

_"Joe Hardy, you killed my brother, Al-Rousasa. I am Al-Rohan, and now I kill you!"_

_"Noooo!" Joe barely heard the sounds of his brother and wife screaming their protest. The man had a bomb in the van, he realized._

_"I love you," he mouthed to Vanessa._

_The van was ripped apart by a terrific explosion. Before the bomb had completely went off, Joe felt rough hands grab him and drag him far, far away. Then everything went black._

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

The driver of the limo had already entered the small, unimpressive building, leaving the two phony bodyguards to escort the two teenagers inside. Joline was trembling. She felt a large hand close around her upper arm as she was guided out of the limousine and toward the door. She saw Darren being dragged along beside her by the other man. The doors opened.

They stood in a gray, empty room. The men escorted their captives to a small, bland door with a number pad beside it. Carefully, they typed in a very long code. The door swung open. The prisoners were gently pushed inside. The door closed behind them and Darren wrenched his arm out of his guard's grip. The man didn't protest, and his comrade released Joline's arm. "Please continue walking," he said.

They were prodded through several security doors, with voice activations, code words, handprint keys, and more number pads. They walked down many flights of steps. Everything was gray. Even the little man that was sitting at the desk in the office they were finally shown into.

As the door shut and locked behind them, they finally got a good look at the person who had driven them. He had a tired, lined face. He looked as if he was about sixty years old, but still in great shape. Everything about him seemed unimportant and gray.

"Hello," said the man. "I am Arthur E. Gray. And you are in a world of trouble."

* * *

**ONE DAY AGO**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

Eric had his first mission. A man from a foreign country had hired this legendary branch of the Assassins to kill Phillip Walker.

He was excited. His first real assignment. Of course, if he failed, his brain would be fried by thousands of volts of electricity. But who was to say he couldn't survive it? He'd lived through the electric chair.

It didn't matter, anyway. He wouldn't fail. It was impossible for the greatest killer of all time to fail. He could do nothing but succeed.

He had arrived in Washington early this morning along with a handful of other travelers. He hadn't had any trouble being searched. Lower agents had already booked him three hotel rooms from which he could assassinate Walker. They were stocked with everything he'd need. He had nothing suspicious on him at all. All of the guns and bullets were hidden in the hotel rooms.

The first was a room in a small, grungy motel. It overlooked a street where Philip Walker was to be giving a speech about getting rid of America's poverty.

The second was across the street from Philip Walker's condo.

The third was overlooking the place where he would debate with his opponent. The opponent wasn't important to him. Only Walker mattered. And he would kill Philip Walker.

He decided to use his resources to get into a press conference that evening. Who knew what kind of man he would be ridding the world of? Eric wanted to know.

The man looked vaguely familiar. Why? Of course, Atol had showed him a clip of his speech.

But it was something more than that…

Eric turned around and found a stupid camera right in his face. He hated reporters and their stupid cameras. They made him very angry. He immediately shut out his anger. Anger was weakness. He was not weak. And so, he was not angry. Giving the reporter a frustrated glare, he turned on his heel and stalked off. He had to get some rest. For tomorrow, the Walker campaign would be over. For good.


	8. Right Now

_"Every time I see you I can see right through you, knowing I can never change your mind. I look into your eyes for the last time. I realize for the first time. While everyone is around, I'll take a moment to let you know that I'm down. Have all my questions been ignored? This time I'm walking out the door."_

**_Right Now, by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Letters to the President_ **

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_LONDON, ENGLAND_ **

_Joe Hardy stirred. He didn't know where he was. The last thing he could remember was a deafening explosion and his brother and wife's screams._

_Was he dead?_

_He didn't think so._

_But where was he?_

_His eyes opened fuzzily. He sat up. He was lying in a hospital bed in a gray, dingy room. It didn't look like a hospital room. Slowly, he rose. Getting back his balance, he tottered to the only door, a steel, vault-like contraption. It was locked._

_He sighed and sat down on the bed. It could be a long wait._

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"What did we do?" Joline asked shakily.

"Yeah, and why did you kidnap us?" Darren chimed in.

"My, my," Arthur Gray said. "You have your father's looks but your uncle's impetuosity, young Darren," he said.

"You…you know my dad?" Darren stammered. "What's this all about?"

"Have a seat," Arthur Gray ordered tersely, gesturing to two hard, gray, uncomfortable looking chairs. "I'll tell you everything you need to know. But a very condensed version. I've got an assassination to stop in a few hours."

Eric lay on his bed, wide awake. He had never felt more alive. He didn't know what to do with the excitement that filled his mind. He knew that feelings were distractions, but he couldn't seem to shake the nerves off. He decided to give into them for a few moments and let them die down on their own.

So far it wasn't working. But that was okay. He had three hours until the first assassination attempt.

Soon, Philip Walker would begin his speech about ridding America from its poverty.

It would be the last speech he would ever make.

* * *

"What? An assassination to stop?" Darren was incredulous. "I thought you were the bad guys."

"No. I am part of the Network, a secret agency kind of like the CIA but nothing so…crude. I have worked with your grandfather and both of your fathers many times before."

Joline felt her pulse quicken. "You knew my dad?"

"Don't you mean I  _know_  your father?" the government agent asked. "Didn't you come to D.C. because you were convinced that your father is alive and in the city? You saw him on TV, didn't you?"

"How do you know?"

Gray smiled grimly. "We know a lot of things we shouldn't, Ms. Hardy. We're the government."

"So is he alive?"

Gray hesitated, then shrugged. "I suppose it would do no harm to tell you. Your father is alive."

Joline's face lit up. Darren nudged her and muttered, "I'm not sure if we should trust him, Jo. We should be careful."

"Very good point, Mr. Hardy," Gray said, nodding in Darren's direction. "But you needn't worry about the Network. We will release you as soon as it's safe."

"But wait, what about my father? If he's alive, you can take him to me!" Joline insisted.

"Calm down," Arthur Gray commanded. "First you must know what has gone on in the past fifteen years. It's a long story, so I'd better get started."


	9. This Is Me

_"I've always been the kind of girl that hid my face. So afraid to tell the world what I've got to say. But I've got this dream bright inside of me. I'm gonna let it show; it's time to let you know. It's to let you know this is real, this is me, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now. Gonna let the light shine on me. Now I've found who I am, there's no way to hold it in. No more hiding who I wanna be. This is me."_

**_This Is Me by Demi Lavato (Disney Records) from Camp Rock Soundtrack_ **

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_LONDON, ENGLAND_ **

_Joe still didn't know what was going on. A man had come in a few hours ago with a plate of food but no explanation._

_He heard a key in a lock and bolted upright, ready to jump whoever came through that door this time. The first thing he saw was the muzzle of a Uzi submachine gun. Whoever was coming in seemed to sense his plan of action and taken extra precaution. Joe sank back down onto the bed in resignation._

_"That was a smart choice," the tall, pretty blonde said as she slipped into the cell, gun pointed at his head, and locked the door behind her. She wore tight-fitting black leather pants and jacket, her long blonde hair swept back in a long ponytail. If she hadn't been holding a gun to his head, Joe would have found her attractive._

_She kind of reminded him of Vanessa. His heart ached. He hoped he'd see her again._

_And Frank. He missed his brother already._

_"Where am I?" Joe demanded. "What happened?"_

_To his surprise, the woman answered without hesitation. "You are in London, England, in the Assassins' safe house. You were pulled out of your van right before it exploded and taken here."_

_"Why? I thought Al-Rohan wanted revenge on me?"_

_She chuckled softly, evilly. "There is no Al-Rohan. Al-Rousasa was a loner. He had no family, no brothers."_

_"But they looked so much alike…"_

_"A mere coincidence. Trust me, if we had wanted you dead, you'd be six feet under right now."_

_"But you don't want me dead?"_

_"No. It would be a waste. Don't be mistaken," she added quickly, seeing a spark light up in Joe's eyes. "I can put you through more pain than you can imagine without killing you. So don't try anything." She sat down beside him and touched his face with her gloved hand. "Yes, what a waste it would be," she murmured, tracing his jawbone with her fingers. Joe lurched away, disgusted._

_"Don't touch me," he spat. The woman took a step forward and jammed the Uzi's muzzle into Joe's midsection. He gasped in pain._

_"I think you're the prisoner here, Joseph," she hissed. "You're not the one giving orders around here. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back, like a good little boy, before I lose my patience."_

_Joe did as he was told and felt metal cuffs clamp around his wrists. His ankles were shackled together. The gun was shoved into his back between his shoulder blades. "Where are you taking me?" he asked._

_"The upper level of Assassins base. Someone there has a personal interest in you and your abilities."_

_Joe was led from the cell and out into a deserted field where a helicopter was waiting. He felt something jab his right arm. A needle. Instantly, his world went black._

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

Eric knew that the moment of truth was drawing closer. The excitement had finally faded away, and now he felt an unfamiliar emotion cloud his judgment.

Was it guilt? He wondered if Walker had a family. If he had children.

Eric wondered if he had a family. If he had children.

Was he any different than Philip Walker.

Of course he was. Philip Walker was born to die. Eric was born to kill.

End of story.


	10. Tears

_"There may not be more than one of you appearing to be by your side. But if the ones you still love are here, fight against time."_

**_Tears by Aly & A.J. (Hollywood Records) from Insomniac_ **

* * *

"Fifteen years ago, a man by the supposed name of Al-Rohan came to Bayport and kidnapped Joe Hardy," Arthur Gray said. "He then blew up the van he was trapped in. There was no way he could have survived. But he did.

"Not too long ago, we discovered that Al-Rohan didn't exist. He was really a terrorist named Richard Black who had been going by the alias of Al-Rohan. Then we stumbled upon something bigger than the group of terrorists we have been fighting for years.

"You see, the Assassins date back to the days of the crusades. They were a bunch of fanatics that used terrorism to spread chaos and disorder. And they've lasted all these years. But recently, we discovered that there is another branch of these terrorists. They are the most deadly, most elite, group of terrorists in the world. They call themselves the Assassins Superior. Their base is unknown. They hire themselves out. Their killers are the best in the world because they are stripped of everything—their memories, their beliefs, even their feelings—as long as it doesn't have to do with killing.

"They use invasive techniques to accomplish this. They train their robot killers to withstand almost anything. It is said that their killers can withstand intense heat and cold as well as pain and torture that would kill a four-hundred-pound wrestler in a heartbeat. They are so unstoppable that they are practically inhuman. Most of their assassins are not their own people. They scout out people who they think have the skills to become a great killer. They kidnap that person. Then they strip him or her of their identity, memories, and purpose. They give them a new identity and a new purpose."

He paused, and the teens stared at him, taken aback. "What do you mean, invasive techniques?" Darren asked slowly.

"They use torture. As far as we can tell, electric shock. Hypnosis. They put their recruits into dark rooms with no lights. They make them endure scorching heat and frigid cold. They use advanced technology. They use a lot of things. But what it boils down to is that they invade a person's mind and reconstruct everything up there."

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_SECRET BASE IN THE JUNGLES OF ROMANIA_ **

Joe lay on the hospital bed, strapped in by his wrists, ankles, and neck. He had been taken to a remote location, somewhere in Romania, he knew, and had been strapped to this bed by the woman, whose name he discovered was Anya, and left there. Even now, as he struggled to get free, he knew it was useless.

_He heard a door open and he looked around at the door in the bleak room. A tall man with a square jaw and cold green eyes looked down on him. "Joe Hardy. It's a pleasure to meet you," the stranger said, striding to some sort of equipment that sat on a table beside the bed. He took several needles attached to wires and began to work disinfecting them while he talked._

_"My name is Atol. I am now your superior. Your commander. Your lord. You do everything I say, and you will become one of the most powerful men in the world."_

_"What makes you think I'll do anything you say?" Joe snapped, glaring at the man who was calmly bringing a needle closer to his right shoulder. He felt a sharp pain as the needle worked its way into his flesh, stopping only when it was two inches deep. He winced but didn't speak._

_"You will be defiant at first," Atol went on, acting as if he hadn't heard a word of what his prisoner had said. "But you have promise, Mr. Hardy."_

_Another needle stabbed into Joe's left shoulder. Another in the crook of his right elbow. Then another in his left. "What are you doing, some kind of twisted experiment?" Joe demanded, feeling slightly nauseated at the sight of four needles sticking out of his skin, attached to wires that hooked up to a threatening-looking piece of machinery._

_"No, this is no experiment. It's a fool proof technique tested and proven to help us get what we want."_

_"And what exactly is that?" Joe demanded as Atol fingered a switch on the machine._

_"To turn you into an Assassin Superior." With that, he flipped the switch. An instant later, pain beyond anything he could imagine rushed over Joe Hardy's body. Electric currents were sweeping through his body. He felt himself convulse and heard himself cry out in pain as the electric shock's pain reached a crescendo. He blacked out._

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"So what exactly does any of this have to do with my dad?" Joline wanted to know. Or maybe she didn't want to know. She didn't like where this story was going. But she had to know. She felt Darren put a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Your father had been watched by the Assassins for a long time. By this time, they had decided that he would make an excellent addition to the Assassins Superior. So they kidnapped him."

"But why go to all the trouble of making it look like some loony killed him trying to get revenge?" Darren asked.

"You don't know what kind of reputation your father and grandfather had. If they had any idea at all, any leads at all, that Joe Hardy was alive somewhere, they would have never stopped until they either found him or had been killed themselves. Arranging their murders would have been too much trouble, and the Assassins couldn't afford to have them dogging them while they were attempting to convert Joe. So they quickly set up a false murder." He smiled grimly. "That is something the Assassins are very good at.*

"They dragged Joe Hardy away seconds before the bomb went off and escaped without anyone seeing them. And then…"

"And…?" Joline prodded, now absolutely certain that she didn't want to know what was coming next.

"And now, Joe Hardy is in Washington, D.C. to assassinate Philip Walker."


	11. No One

_"I am moving through the crowd, trying to find myself. Feel like a guitar that's never played. Will someone strum away? And I ask myself who do I wanna be? Do I wanna throw away the key and invent a whole new me?"_

**_No One by Aly & A.J. (Hollywood Records) from Into the Rush_ **

* * *

"No," Joline breathed. "No…I mean, my daddy wouldn't…he…"

Darren wrapped an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "If you're telling the truth," he said, a bit of suspicion still lingering in his voice, "then what are you going to do to stop the assassination?"

"I thought it would be obvious," Arthur Gray said.

Joline choked on a sob.

Darren glared at the government agent. "If what you've just told us is true, my uncle doesn't know who he is! He's been brainwashed! Now you're telling me that you're going to take out a man who has been through something you can't imagine in your worst nightmares? Can't you just find another way to stop him?"

"He is no longer Joe Hardy," Arthur Gray said sadly. "When our intelligence uncovered the truth, I was sad. Joe Hardy was a fine young man. A bit hotheaded, yes, but still, he had a good heart." He paused, not looking sorry at the least. "But that person is gone. Joe Hardy is dead."

"You just told us yourselves, he's alive!" Darren shouted.

"Technically, he's still alive. But the person he once was isn't."

Darren narrowed his eyes. "How long have you known about all of this?"

"All of what?" Arthur Gray snapped.

"The Assassins Superior. What they do to their prisoners. That Jo's father is alive?"

"It has been…ah…in our knowledge for almost ten years," Arthur Gray said, turning his back.

"Ten years?" Darren whispered. " _Ten years?_ Do you have any idea what kind of torture my family went through? My dad, devastated because his little brother was killed? My grandparents sobbing over the empty casket? My aunt—Jo's mother—waking up crying every night, screaming for her husband? And you knew he was alive? You didn't tell anyone?"

"By that time it was too late," Arthur Gray said stiffly, his back still turned. "Joe Hardy was probably already someone else. Don't you think it would have been even more devastating for your family to realize that the son, brother, and husband they loved was still alive, but someone else entirely? And not just any somebody! A killer!"

"They could have done something!" Darren spat. "I bet my uncle would recognize his brother! His parents!"

Arthur Gray shook his head sympathetically. "You really don't get it, do you, kid? The Assassins are bad enough. But the Assassins Superior? Joe Hardy would kill his father, brother, mother, even daughter if the Assassins Superior ordered him to. In all respects, Joe Hardy is dead to a world. That's why it's so important for us to take him out."

Joline was shaking with sobs. "You're the government!" she cried. "You can do something!"

Arthur Gray bowed his head. "I can do nothing. I'm sorry." He sighed, then said, "Philip Walker will begin his speech in front of the Days Old Motel in an hour. I'll get my agents ready to go. We'll take Joe Hardy out before he has a chance to fire a shot. We'll have to…ah…keep you under wraps until we finish the job, otherwise you might do something stupid and get yourselves killed—or worse, ruin an operation that has been going on for ten years!

"I'll have some of my agents escort you back to Bayport when I get back and come up with a cover story."

"No!" Joline cried, "I'll tell everyone the truth! Then they'll come here and set you straight! You can't murder my daddy!"

Arthur Gray smiled sympathetically. "It's not murder. It's ridding the world of a murderer. And you can tell your folks whatever you want. It's not like they're going to believe you."

* * *

**_15 YEARS AGO_ **

**_SECRET BASE IN THE JUNGLES OF ROMANIA_ **

_He had been in a stupor for days, weeks, or maybe years._

_"You are Eric," someone said._

_"No, I am Joe Hardy," he struggled to say. He wouldn't forget who he was. He tried to keep his brother's face in his mind. Frank, I won't forget you._

_An agonizing jolt of energy coursed through his body._

_"You are Eric," someone said._

_"I am Joe…Joe…Hardy."_

_Another jolt. Maybe he was Eric. No, he was Joe Something._

_"You are Eric."_

_"I am…" He didn't know who he was. But he clung to the image of the brown haired young man and beautiful ash-blonde haired woman. Whoever they were, he loved them._

* * *

**PRESENT**

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

Eric was feeling very conflicted. He had fallen asleep for a very short period of time. While he was sleeping, he had dreamed about a brown-haired young man. He liked this person. And a beautiful woman. Maybe it was Anya. But no, she was nicer than Anya. And she was pretty in a different sort of way.

Eric didn't know if he really wanted to kill Walker.

His mind told him that he did. So did the implant at the base of his skull.

His heart told him he didn't. Something deep inside of him continued to whisper that he wasn't a murderer. That he was meant to be something more.

But I'm not a murderer, his brain argued with his heart. I'm an Assassin. There's a difference.

Oh really? said his heart. You really don't want to do this.

He fingered the scar that had resulted from the implant being put in.

Regardless of what he wanted to do, it seemed he had no choice. He glanced at his watch. Only an hour until his job. He had to prepare.

He took his gun and loaded it. He was prepared. Now there was nothing to do but wait…and think.


	12. From Underneath

_"From underneath I wanted you to see the first thing that I ever poured my heart into. You'll never know the pain that I went through. I'm not so sure you'll ever know and so I'll make you understand the words that fill my life are not from you but from my Father's hand. Do you remember that cold day in December, leaving everything you knew behind?"_

**_From Underneath by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Letters to the President_ **

* * *

"We've got to get out of here!" Joline screamed, kicking the locked door. "We can't let that heartless jerk shoot my daddy!" She shook with sobs and Darren embraced her. "I just found out that my father is alive," she whispered. "I don't want to lose him again."

Darren struggled with what he had been trying to say for the past ten minutes. "Jo, maybe he was right. I don't think that killing him is the best way to handle the situation, but from the sound of it, that man about to kill Philip Walker isn't your father. He's just a robot in your father's body."

"You don't understand!" Joline yelled, shoving her cousin away. "I could get to him! I don't believe anything that lousy excuse for a government official said! My dad isn't a killer. And he's in there somewhere. I could find him." She looked up at her "older brother" with pleading eyes. "Don't you see? I have to try!"

Darren sighed. "Jo, I want to help you, but we're locked in. There's nothing we can do."

"Nothing we can do?" Joline said with a hint of sarcasm. "I think we can figure out something…"

* * *

**BAYPORT**

Frank Hardy's eyes grew wide as he listened to his old friend on the other line. "What do you mean, they decided to come home? I told you, Philip, my son and niece are in Washington, D.C.!"

_"I'm sorry, Frank. I got a call from you, saying they weren't going to make it."_

"But I never made that call!" Frank stormed. "Someone has kidnapped Darren and Joline!"

_"I'm so sorry, Frank. But when you called to check on the kids, I was flabbergasted. Can you think of anyone who can use technology or something to sound exactly like you?"_

"There's only two groups," Frank muttered under his breath. The Assassins or the Network.

And frankly, he wasn't sure which secret group was worse.

* * *

**WASHINGTON, D.C.**

"Okay, so we're good with the plan?" Joline whispered.

"Yeah," Darren muttered back, barely audible. "But you have to realize that this plan relies completely on whether they have any kind of bug set up in this room and whether or not it is just audio."

"I know," Joline whispered back. "But it's the only one we've got. And we've got to do something." Louder, she said, "Darren! I think I may have found a way out!"

Trying his best to sound excited and concerned at the same time, Darren answered, "Shhh! This room might be bugged!"

"You're too paranoid, Darren. Come on! We'll be able to rescue my daddy in no time!" They tiptoed to either side of the door and fell silent. After five minutes had passed, Joline whispered dejectedly, "It's not working."

"Shhh!" Darren hissed, this time for real. Joline listened. Footsteps were approaching the door.

"Get ready," she mouthed.

They heard someone unlock the door. "You kids better be in here," the black clad guard muttered under his breath as he entered the room. He glanced around and saw that it was empty. "Crap. The Gray Man's gonna kill me!"

While his back was turned, Darren and Joline quietly slipped out of the door and into what turned out to be a storage closet across the hall. They heard the guard yelling into his walkie-talkie, ordering some backup. "The kids must've escaped through the vents!" he barked.

"Good idea opening the vent," Joline whispered to Darren, who grinned. "It gets them off our trail for a while."

"Let's just hope it's long enough for us to sneak out of here," Darren answered, but looking rather pleased with himself nonetheless.

Joline turned around slowly, and saw several pairs of black pants, black shirts, black boots, gray jumpsuits, and black hats. There were even several gas masks and bullet proof vests. "Why sneak out," she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, "when we can walk out in the open?"

Darren's eyes flickered from his cousin to the jumpsuits. "Are you serious, Jo?"

"Why not? Joline asked, reaching for a jumpsuit and pulling it over her clothes.

Darren groaned. "This is  _so_ cliché," he muttered. But he, too, slipped on a jumpsuit. Joline grabbed a large backpack and quickly stuffed two bullet proof vests, two pairs of black jeans, and two shirts inside. She slipped off her sneakers and pulled on a pair of the black boots that were about her size. Darren exchanged his gym shoes for black boots as well. They were ready for the finishing touch. They quickly put on gas masks and slipped out of the closet.

That was the easy part. Now they had to focus on getting out of there. Alive.


	13. Something More

"I have to admit, Jo," Darren said as he pulled off his gas mask in an alley beside a gas station thirty minutes later. "That was a good plan, even if it wasn't entirely original."

"Hey, sometimes you gotta stick to the status quo," Jo grinned. "Let's get into the gas station and change, okay? If we're gonna help my dad, we've gotta hurry. Walker's speech is about to start in twenty minutes or so."

Lugging the heavy bag along with them, Joline and Darren entered the gas station. "Let's change in the bathrooms," Joline said.

"Yeah, more private than an alley," Darren commented.

"There's that," Joline said, then started bouncing up and down, "but the main reason is that I really gotta pee!"

Darren chuckled. "Alright, gimme my clothes. Don't forget the vest," he added in an undertone, noticing the cashier giving them a strange look. "We might end up needing it. I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

The bathroom was one of the most disgusting places Joline had ever visited. She found herself holding her breath while she used the facilities and then slipped on the tight black jeans and undershirt, then the bullet proof vest, which felt very much like an overweight life jacket, and finally, a loose black shirt with long sleeves. She was glad it was loose because she didn't want to have to explain to anyone why she was lumpy because of that stupid vest.

 _At least it'll keep me relatively safe,_ she thought.

Darren was already dressed and purchasing two candy bars and waters when she came out of the bathroom. "Hey," she said quietly. "Do you know where the Days Old Motel is?" she asked the clerk.

The old man looked at them strangely. "Why are you two youngsters wanting to check into a hotel?"

Joline's face turned red as she started to explain, "No, you see, we're cousins. We're visiting a friend and—"

"I don't think that's really any of your business," Darren said coldly, staring at the elderly man.

The man cleared his throat. "My apologies. It's two blocks away. It's in the bad, poor part of town though. I hear Walker's giving a speech across from it in about fifteen minutes, though. Say, you're not some political crazies trying to sneak in are you? I should call the police, I should, and tell them there's some punk kids in here about to assassinate Walker!"

Joline gaped at the man. Darren groped for a response. "Actually we're big supporters of Walker," he answered. "We know security's going to be tight where he's going to be giving his speech, but we thought it would be amazing to listen from somewhere in the hotel."

"Oh, well, in that case, have a nice day!" the old man said cheerily. Darren shook his head as he hailed a taxi.

"Crazy old man," he commented. "Absolutely wacko."

* * *

Eric knew that it was almost time. But there was something wrong. He was shaking. He wouldn't be able to aim and kill this Walker guy if he was trembling so badly. He could hear the sounds of people getting set up, hear security trying to make sure everything was okay.

He had decided that he didn't want to do this. Even his mind wasn't wanting to anymore. But how to get out of it, he didn't know. He had three days to kill Walker, they'd told him. Three days to live. Or three days to figure out what to do. He didn't know anyone. He didn't even know who he was anymore.

He didn't like the odds.

He could run. But they would find out. If they didn't, then at the end of his three days, when they saw that Walker was still alive, they'd push the button that would end his life.

He  _really_  didn't like the odds.

At that moment, the door was kicked open. He snatched up his gun. He aimed it. And froze.

Standing in the doorway were two children. Both of them were eerily familiar. He didn't know why. His finger hesitated on the trigger. Then he lowered the gun. "Who are you?" he demanded. He was amazed to hear that his voice was shaking. He was giving in to emotion. He was becoming weak.

The girl stepped out of the shadows. Eric gasped when he saw the brilliant blue of her eyes.  _They're the same color as mine,_ he realized.

"Daddy?"


	14. Mirror

_"Who are you to tell me who I am and what I should be? Who are you? I don't need to listen to a list of things I should do. I won't try. No, I won't try."_

**_Mirror by Barlow Girl (Fervent Records) from Another Journal Entry_ **

* * *

Joline stood trembling in the doorway of the hotel room, staring at the slightly-older looking face that she had seen in pictures for so many years…

"Daddy?" she said, her voice shaking.

Darren had a hand on her arm, possibly to restrain her from doing anything stupid and getting herself hurt. She saw the gun in her father's hand, pointed at her, and almost recoiled when she remembered Arthur Gray's words.  _He'd kill his own daughter if the Assassins Superior ordered him to…_

But then their eyes locked and she knew that somehow, they had connected. He lowered the gun, his expression confused. "Who…who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Joline closed her eyes and drank in the sound of her father's voice. It was exactly as she had imagined, deep and strong. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His blonde hair was plastered to his head by a thin layer of sweat, his blue eyes bright and troubled, his mouth curved into a slight frown.

Darren stepped forward. "Uncle Joe?" he whispered, his eyes wide.

Joe Hardy looked very confused. "You're…you're my Uncle Joe?" he asked slowly, his eyes now locked on Darren. Before the boy could respond to the absurd statement, Joe ran a hand over his face and muttered, "You both look so familiar."

"Listen, there's no time!" Darren snapped, recovering from his shock and springing into action. "We've got to get out of here—now!"

Eric stared at the strange children in front of him. Their faces were so familiar. His mind told him that he should dispose of them and get on with his job. But his heart overruled.

He was still suspicious, though. "I can't go with you," he said slowly. "I have a job to do."

The girl's eyes widened. "We know about the assassination plan. And so does the government! If you don't get out of here soon, they're going to kill you!" The child's eyes were pleading. A strange feeling hit Eric in the gut. It was then that he realized that he wanted more than anything to go with these children. But he couldn't. He had a job to do. And the implant…

"Get out of here!" he snapped, raising the gun. "Before I change my mind."

The boy whispered something in the girl's ear and tried to pull her back. But not only did the child refuse to back down, but she took a bold step forward. "No," she said, her blue eyes drilling into her own.

"I'll shoot," he threatened. But he knew he wouldn't. He just had to scare them into getting out of here. He didn't want them to get hurt.

"No, you won't," the girl said, as if she had read his mind. "You're not a killer. You're my father. I didn't risk my neck for you to push me away now!"

Eric stared at her. "Your father? I—I have a family?"

There was the sound of a commotion downstairs. "Quick!" the boy exclaimed. "They're here! You've gotta move, or you'll die. The Network shoots first and asks questions later."

Eric grappled with his thoughts and emotions for a moment, then came to a decision. For reasons he could not explain, he wanted to protect these children more than anything. We'll have to take the elevator down to the lobby," he said rushing forward.

"Why the elevator?" the boy panted as they ran. "Won't the stairs be safer?"

The girl slammed her finger into the call button and the doors slid open easily. No one was in it.

"They would expect us to take the stairs," Eric pointed out. "Now, we should be clear when the elevator reaches the bottom," he said. "How we're going to get far away in time, I don't know."

The boy smiled. "We're smarter than you give us credit for. We've got a taxi waiting for us out front."

Arthur Gray was very agitated. Those stupid kids! When he had gotten the call that they had escaped, he was sure that they would try to get home. But now it was obvious that they had gotten to the killer first. Now he had run, probably taking the kids with him as hostages.

Arthur Gray, alias the Gray Man, took out his phone and dialed a number. The phone hadn't even gotten through one ring when someone picked up.

"Arthur Gray, we've been trying to contact you all day!" came the furious voice of Frank Hardy. "Where—are—my—son—and—my—niece?"

The taxi had taken them almost out of the city before Darren told the driver to stop in front of a dingy diner. He produced a large sum of money to pay the man for his services.

"Lucky Dad gave me some extra money just in case, huh?" he said, grinning at Joline. The girl didn't answer. She was staring at her father.

When they had sat down at a booth and ordered three mugs of hot chocolate, Joline looked into her father's eyes. "I have one question," she asked almost timidly. "Have you ever killed anyone for real?"

She held her breath, hoping beyond hope that her father was not a murderer. She let it out when he shook his head. "No. I know  _how_  to kill, but I've never wanted to. Not really. But after I get you guys on a plane to your homes, I've got to finish my assignment."

"No!" Joline protested.

"Joe Hardy is no killer," Darren agreed forcefully.

"Joe Hardy may not be—whoever he is—but I have no choice."

"You are Joe Hardy!" Joline exclaimed. The illusion that he had miraculously regained his memory just by looking into her eyes faded instantly.

"And you don't  _have_ to do anything," Darren added.

Joe sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look. I don't know anything, except that my name is Eric and I have a job to do."

"You mean, you don't remember  _anything_?" Joline asked, dejected. Joe shook his head.

"Tell me," he said suddenly, his eyes ablaze with a newfound interest.

"Tell you?"

"Everything," Joe said. "Your faces are familiar. You kind of look like the woman I dream about sometimes. And you remind me of the dark haired man," he directed to Darren.

"That's gotta be Mom!" Joline exclaimed. "Your wife, Vanessa!"

"I have a wife?"

"Yes, and me, your daughter, Joline Hardy!"

"But why do you look familiar?" Joe asked Darren. "Are you my son?"

"No, I'm your nephew, Darren. The dark haired man you remember is probably your brother—my dad—Frank Hardy."

A spark of recognition lit up Joe Hardy's eyes. "Frank?"

The name was so, so familiar. Images of the dark haired man flashed through Eric's—no, Joe's—mind. The words  _I love you, Little Brother,_ echoed in his mind. And he felt a deep ache inside of him.  _My brother._

He still couldn't remember everything. But he sort of remembered Frank.

"What happened to me?"

Darren and Joline launched into the story of what had happened to him since his kidnapping. Then they said something that sparked his memory.

"What was that name?"

"Iola," Joline responded. "Mom said that she was your first love but she was killed by—"

Suddenly Joe went rigid. His mind was filled with a horrific explosion. Images began to flicker through his mind. He went limp, then raised his haunted eyes. Hearing that name from his past had awakened something inside of him.

"I remember."


	15. Tears II

_"Big tears fall down in puddles. When something cuts, it bleeds. Big storms leave towns in rubbles. Shore just recedes. Take some time to secure a stream of water to occur, but crying is a way to know. Your tears will help you learn and grow, so better off to let them flow; stains the cheeks will come to know."_

**_Tears by Aly & A.J. (Hollywood Records) from Insomniac_ **

* * *

"So you're telling me that you kidnapped my son and niece, locked them up while you went on some sort of raid, and they escaped, went after an assassin and now you have no idea where they are?" Frank Hardy hissed, his voice growing steadily louder.

"That's pretty much it," the Gray Man said.

"My son—MY SON!—in the hands of the Assassins! I WILL NOT LOSE ANOTHER PERSON TO THE ASSASSINS!" Frank screamed, banging his fist against the wall. "First, Joe, now Darren!" He took a deep breath. "I'm coming to D.C. Tonight."

"Frank, I'm afraid your interfering will only further complicate matters. I would like for you to stay put and sit tight until our agents can find the children."

"Yeah, and I'd like to have my baby brother back," Frank said coldly. He hung up the phone and turned to his wife, who was sobbing quietly into her hands. Luckily, Frank thought as he embraced his wife, Jessi Marie and Joey knew nothing of this. "Don't worry. Why don't you call Vanessa and let her know that I'm heading to D.C. right now and I'm going to find them—safe and sound."

Callie nodded. "Be careful. I love you."

* * *

Joline felt tears run down her face as she fell into her father's open arms. "Oh, Daddy!" she sobbed, wishing she could stay this way forever, with his strong, loving arms around her. Something wet splashed onto her forehead. Her father was crying too.

"I'm so sorry," he croaked. "So, so sorry."

He pulled back, his eyes filled with pain and regret. He smashed his fist against the table. "When Iola died, I devoted my entire life to fighting terrorists. And then I let myself become one." He choked on a sob. "Frank will never forgive me."

"Hey, you're no terrorist," Darren piped up. "You said it yourself. You never wanted to kill."

"But I let them break me," Joe said. "I gave up…I forgot who I was. I just sat there and let them turn me into some kind of monster. And it's been fifteen years…"

"They tortured you and used advanced technology to invade your mind," Darren said. "There was nothing you could have done. They may have trained you to be a killer, but you're not one, and you never were."

"I always told Frank you'd turn out to be smarter than him," Joe said, giving his nephew the patented Joe Hardy lopsided grin. "To tell you the truth, I think that it was the memories of Frank and Vanessa hidden in the back of my mind that kept me sane. I think they were the ones that kept me from completely losing myself." He paused. "Speaking of Van, has she…er…remarried or been involved with anyone?" He looked terrified to hear the answer.

"No," Joline answered him. "She's never had any interest in anyone else. Says she's never going to love anyone like she still loves you."

Joe Hardy's face broke into a grin and suddenly he looked exactly like he did in that picture in Frank's house, care free and fun-loving. "Well, this fires me up even more," he announced grimly. "Now I'm going to be even more serious about fighting terrorists for the rest of my life." Then he lowered his eyes. "Which will be all of two days." At Darren and Joline's startled reactions, he explained, "They gave me three days to kill Walker. The first day is almost up. There's an implant at the base of my skull. When the three days are up and walker is still alive, they'll press a button and the implant will send thousands of volts of electricity through my brain."

Joe stared at his daughter, anguished. He had just found her, found himself, and now he was to be ripped away from her in forty-eight short hours. And Frank…He probably wouldn't be able to see his brother or Vanessa again…

It was probably for the best, though. He didn't want them to have to go through the pain of his "death" for a second time.

"Can't you just take it out?" Darren asked.

"It's not that simple," Joe said. "It will go off in the instant that someone tries to remove it."

Joline stood up. "We'll figure out something. I'm not going to let this happen. Not after I just found you again. Hurry, let's get to the airport. From there, we can catch the next flight to Bayport. Maybe someone there will know what to do."

* * *

Frank Hardy's plane landed in Washington, D.C. at one in the morning. He was exhausted, but he couldn't waste any time. At first he thought he was hearing things when he heard Darren's voice shouting, "Dad!"

He spun and saw his son racing toward him, his face alight. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a call from the Gray Man—Arthur Gray—and as soon as I found out what happened, I caught the next flight to D.C. How did you get away from the Assassin?"

"What Assassin? Oh, you mean 'Eric'. Funny story, Dad, we've actually got a big surprise for you."

"Yeah," piped in Joline, rushing around the corner to embrace her uncle. "You might want to sit down for this, Uncle Frank."

Frank, still very confused, smiled down at the teenagers in front of him. "Don't worry, guys. Whatever 'surprise' you have in store, I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

Frank froze. He knew that voice. He had longed to hear it every day for fifteen years. But it was impossible. His stomach clenched as he slowly turned. What he saw made him go weak in the knees. Two bright blue orbs smiled at him, blonde hair just brushing his eyebrows. Joe's mouth was a lopsided grin.

Joe ran across the room and embraced his brother, tears streaming down his face. Frank, in shock, just stood there. Suddenly Joe stepped back, his eyes wide in shock.

There was a gun in Frank's hand, pointed right at Joe's heart.


	16. Hold On

_"We don't have time left to regret. It will take more than common sense. So stop your wondering; take a stand. There's more to life than just to live. 'Cause and empty room can be so loud. It's too many tears to drown them out, so hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on…"_

**_Hold On by The Jonas Brothers (Hollywood Records) from S.O.S._ **

* * *

"Dad!" Darren said harshly. "What do you think you're doing? That's Joe…your brother…"

"Daddy!" Joline squealed.

"This is not Joe," Frank said calmly, his eyes filled with tears. "Joe's been dead for fifteen years."

"Brother, it's me…I know what you're thinking…of course, I know I've always been able to tell, since we were—are—so close. I promise, I'm not some experiment from the Lazarus Clinic—remember, they were shut down eighteen years ago, for good."

"Of course you'll say that. They programmed you to." But there was doubt in his voice. Frank wanted it to be his brother. He really did. More than anything. But it wasn't. It couldn't be. He felt a tear leak down his face.

Joe didn't seem to be perturbed by the gun aiming at his chest. Instead, he took a step back, arms crossed, still grinning. "Know how we'd solve those mysteries when we were kids?" he asked.

Frank found himself nodding, a lump in his throat.  _No, that's not Joe. It's an imposter._  But it was getting harder to believe every second.

Joe chuckled. "Man, you got me out of so much trouble. Remember that time when I was with Iola at Chet's party? And we had that secret invention of Mr. Wright's? I ran after that guy at the car without a second thought." He grinned. "My hot head got me into some deep trouble—I was tied up in that cave for almost two days before you guys found me. But I wasn't worried. Not really. I knew you'd rescue me."*

"Where are you going with this?" Frank asked the possible-Joe-imposter warily, suspicion lingering in his eyes, while Joline and Darren listened to the conversation, wide eyed and breathless.

"I've always relied on gut feelings, Frank. On my heart. While you'd sit there and depend on your logic to get you out of a mess or to fix a problem, I'd barrel head-on into it without a second thought. I relied on my instincts."

"Yeah…even when we got into more serious stuff, like fighting terrorists, you'd always run into a situation without thinking it through and—" Frank stopped. He raised the gun again, which had lowered during his monologue. "Very clever. But I won't let my guard down again."

"What does your heart tell you, Frank?" Joe asked. He felt like he was on Oprah or Dr. Phil, gushing about feelings, but at the moment, he didn't care. He just wanted his big brother back, more than anything in the world.

Frank looked in Joe's eyes and saw a love that no Assassin could understand or duplicate. His heart stopped for a moment, then he shoved the gun back into the holster and jumped on his brother, nearly knocking him over. "Joe…Joe…oh gosh, I thought I'd never see you again…baby brother, I'll never let anyone hurt you…"

Finally they pulled away and Joe grinned at his brother. "Man, Frank. You've become such a  _girl_ since I disappeared."

Frank smacked his brother upside the head. "Jerk."

Joe eyed the gun in the holster and asked warily, "Okay, I just want to know…how the  _heck_ did you get a gun into the airport?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Walker's secret service men met me at the airport. When I got here, they gave me one, just in case I met up with the terrorist here."

"Well, you sorta did," Joe said reluctantly.

Frank raised his eyebrows.

"It's a long story," Joline broke in. Frank jumped. He'd almost forgotten the kids were here.

"We have time," Frank said.

"Not really," Joe said even more reluctantly. This time, Frank's eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared behind his hair.

"Why don't we exchange stories on our way back to Bayport?" Darren suggested.

Frank slung an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Alright, let's go."

"They WHAT?"

Frank had listened to their story intently. He was the perfect audience. He had cringed at all the right places, gasped when something shocking was revealed, and had even cursed like a sailor when Joe talked about the torture he'd been through.

When Joe had gotten to the part about the implant, Frank had exploded. He quickly quieted down, though, seeing a stewardess glancing his way, agitated.

"Look, Frank, if we can't do anything, at least I got to see you again. I missed you so much, buddy." Joe felt a tear escape and he didn't try to hide it. "I'm just so sorry I let everyone down."

Frank's eyes were hard. "You did no such thing, Joe. Now I know how you felt when Iola died. I've known it for fifteen years. Nothing but a thirst for revenge…But we're going to save you!"

"How?" Joe asked dubiously.

"Well, you said you survived an electric chair, right?"

"Yeah, but this is different…and that was when I was Eric."

"You were always Joe Hardy," Frank said firmly. "As soon as we get to Bayport, we're going to the hospital."


	17. When You Look Me in the Eyes

Vanessa was worrying about Joline when the phone rang. "Hello?" she answered breathlessly, hoping beyond hope that it was news—good news—about her daughter.

"Van, it's Frank."

"Any news?"

"The kids are fine, Van." Vanessa let out a breath that had seemed like she'd been holding since Joline and Darren disappeared. "But can you meet us at Bayport General?"

Despite his request to meet them at the hospital, Frank sounded happier than he had since Joe had died. Still, the meeting place seemed to be an ominous sign. "Are they okay?"

"I just said, they're fine. I'm here with someone else. He's going into surgery in a few minutes, but before he conks out completely, I think you'd like to see him."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Frank, now I understand what Joe meant when he used to complain about how obnoxious you are when you keep secrets. But okay, I'll be there."

Joe gripped the metal edges of the hospital bed tightly. "Frank, I don't think I'll be able to do this."

"What, face Vanessa again after all these years or hold off the implant until we can get it removed?" Frank wanted to know.

Joe swallowed. "Both."

Frank took his brother's hand. "I'll be here with you, Joe. I'm telling you, you can do this. I'll be with you. Just think about everything you have to look forward to."

"But what if Jo was wrong? What if Van doesn't love me anymore?"

"Joe?" Vanessa stood in the doorway, her face ghostly pale. She stared at her husband, her knees weak and stomach fluttering. Tears filled her lovely grey eyes.

"Vanessa...?" Joe said hesitantly.

Without another word, Vanessa flew across the room and into her husband's waiting arms.

Frank smiled. "I guess you have your answer, Little Brother."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, the entire family was at Fenton and Laura's house, celebrating Joe's miraculous return. Everything had gone well after Vanessa had shown up. Inspired with a new-found confidence, Joe had warded off the electrical circuits for two whole minutes while the surgeons had removed the implant. He was safe. The Assassins Superior held nothing above him anymore.

Callie and Frank sat in the love seat, holding hands. Fenton was in his favorite chair, a comfy recliner. Laura sat in the floor, playing Uno with Darren and Joey. Joe sat in between Vanessa and Joline. Little Jessi Marie was on his lap. "So you're my Uncle Joe?" she said, crinkling her little nose. She grinned. "You look a lot  _older_ than I thought you would."

Joe gasped, feigned anger and shock, and said, "Are you calling me... _old_?"

"NO! Noooo..." Jessi Marie shrieked as Joe tickled her. She was giggling madly.

Fenton sat up. "Joe?"

Joe looked up at his father, his eyes bright. "Yeah?"

"I talked to Arthur Gray a few minutes ago. Thanks to what you've told us about the Assassins Superior, the leader, along with several other assassins, were caught. But not all. Joe, you could still be in danger. The ones that escaped will probably come after you for revenge."

Joe grinned that lopsided grin and stroked Jessi Marie's silky curls. He then pulled Joline close and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Let'em come," he said cheerfully. "I think I've got more than enough to keep me safe right here."

**THE END**


End file.
